Apology
by HopeCoppice
Summary: Bertrand tries to fix things. Part of the Du Fortunesa series. Crossposted to AO3.


**Follow up to 'Therapy', 'Introspection' and 'Nightmare' i.e. Part of the 'Du Fortunesa' series. As usual, I own nothing, and I'd like to thank WerepuppyBlack for helping me with Vlad's dialogue. Enjoy!**

Bertrand found his quarry in his coffin room, door open. Presumably this was a sign of Vlad's confidence in the truce between the Draculas, but it also allowed Bertrand to stand for a moment and observe him unpacking his schoolbag. He didn't seem angry with anything just then; if his tutor had to attach an adjective to his charge's actions, it would be tired. That was understandable; even if one disregarded all the emotional stresses of recent days, the boy had been burning the candle at both ends for some time. He wished he could have this conversation with him at a better time, but things between them needed to be sorted out as soon as possible. He knocked firmly on the door frame.

The boy turned and Bertrand's assessment of his wellbeing was proved to be accurate. The look on his face suggested that he wanted to drop into his coffin and refuse to come out for a few weeks, given the chance. Unfortunately, he had just been robbed of that chance, and they both knew it.

Weariness was clearly warring with wariness in Vlad's mind, and both made themselves known in his tone of voice as he spoke. "Oh." He looked for a moment as if he wasn't sure whether to speak politely or slam the door in his tutor's face, but after a slight pause he seemed to decide on a compromise. "Bertrand. What do you want?" Bertrand sighed, his mind flashing back to the courtroom of his nightmares for a second. "I want to talk to you." Vlad shifted his weight so that he was leaning against the side of his coffin. "So talk."

Bertrand stepped into the room, leaving the door open. Somehow he had made it through an entire day of limited sleep, a directly relevant nightmare, and a walk to Vlad's door that had seemed far longer than it usually was, without ever having actually thought about what he was going to say when he arrived. "I'm not sure what to say." Vlad seemed surprised by that, a raised eyebrow accompanying an unimpressed roll of his eyes. "Well, when you've worked it out-" "It isn't easy." If Vlad had been surprised by his tutor's lack of forethought, he was even more astonished when he was interrupted. Bertrand was rather taken aback himself, and stood silently awaiting the reprimand he was sure would come.

"Sometimes that means you're not ready to talk." The words were cutting and Bertrand was left hanging for a moment, wondering if he had been dismissed, before the Chosen One continued. "This truce, with the slayers. How would I make that official?" The older vampire answered promptly; the question was an easy one, far easier than anything else he could hope to be asked in the next few minutes. "You must go to the Council and tell them that you have declared a truce with the slayers. They cannot go against your word." If this was to be the last piece of advice he would give Vlad, then so be it; he knew it was accurate.

"That simple?" Vlad seemed a little uncertain, but he would accept the answer, Bertrand knew. The boy began loosening his tie, looking down at it as he continued to speak. "You took the Book. Why?" Here it was, then; the question Bertrand had been dreading all along. He was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I've carried that book around for hundreds of years, looking for the Chosen One. When you wouldn't reveal the writing... when you acted as if the breathers weren't a threat... I thought that if I wielded the power of the Praedictum Impaver, at least we might all be safe." He chose not mention the terrible feelings of betrayal that stabbed at him every time Vlad chose Erin – a breather, and a slayer at that – over him. "I came to say – to swear my allegiance. I shouldn't have acted as I did." He should apologise, he knew, but he didn't deserve Vlad's forgiveness and therefore would not ask for it.

"No, you shouldn't." Vlad's voice was firm as he met his tutor's gaze. "And you shouldn't have taken Erin. But I should have listened to you about the slayers. I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to deal with that yourself." Bertrand searched the boy's face for any sign of bitterness of sarcasm, but it seemed his apology was sincere. That wasn't what the older vampire had expected; it wasn't what he wanted. "You don't need to apologise. It is I who should be sorry. I _am_."

The Chosen One was silent for some time, staring at the floor while he ran the smooth fabric of his school tie between his hands. Bertrand sighed, accepting the implicit dismissal, and turned to leave. He only hoped that he would be permitted to remain in the school, where he could continue to keep some kind of watch over his former student. He had reached the doorway when Vlad's voice stopped him. "I want to run through policy-making at some point. I need to know what I'm doing with the Council, and the truce." Bertrand glanced back to find the boy still not looking at him, but he didn't care. It was enough. He pulled the door shut behind him and walked away with a new confidence.

Of course Vlad wouldn't forgive him right away, but his parting statement had given the tutor permission to remain at Garside in his official capacity and that was enough for Bertrand, for now. When Vlad woke a few hours later, he found a pile of books tucked just inside the door of his room, pages of handwritten advice tucked into them to mark important passages, and when he came to thank his tutor, he found the older vampire buried in even more papers and parchment, making detailed notes as he went. Bertrand accepted his thanks with a nod and continued to work.


End file.
